


The Morning After

by MalMao



Series: Sterek Drabbles on Tumblr (by deputyeyebrows) [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Waking Up In a Stranger's Apartment AU, and is a surprisingly good host, derek has cats, yeah idk how to tag this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1654133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMao/pseuds/MalMao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This…isn’t Scott’s apartment,” Stiles begins intelligently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](http://idgafilf.tumblr.com/post/85468870786/tickatocka-i-really-want-an-i-accidentally):
> 
> 'i really want an “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” au'

Thing is, Stiles has woken up on strangers’ couches before. Of course he has. He’s a sophomore in college and his best friend is dating a sorority sister.

(“Constant vigilance Stiles!” Scott had told him once, completely ignoring the eye roll Stiles was not even trying to hide. “Those fraternity guys are super-hot, dude. I have to keep my game up.”

“Which means attending every, single frat party with Kira?”

“Which means attending every, single frat party with Kira.”

“I’m going to die of alcohol poisoning.”)

But the thing is, he’s never woken up on a stranger’s couch without at least some vague memory of being invited inside. He’s also never woken up on a stranger’s couch when he was almost 98% certain he’d fallen asleep in his best friend’s apartment.

Also, the room does not look even remotely like the scene of a party. At all. The coffee table isn’t littered with empty, red solo cups or those clear, plastic things people usually make jello shots in, there isn’t a forgotten game of beer pong anywhere to be seen, and no sorority girl is stumbling down the hall looking rumpled and in desperate need of both a shower and a hot beverage.

There  _is_ , however, a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of eggs, two cats (one seated on the entertainment center—tail flicking and eyes looking rather judgey for someone that has a bowtie shaped spot on their chest—and the second curled up directly on top of Stiles’ aching bladder), and an extremely attractive man standing with his arms crossed at the end of the sofa. The intimidation factor, though, is quelled a bit by his soft looking pajama pants and bed hair.

“This…isn’t Scott’s apartment,” Stiles begins intelligently.

The attractive dude gives him a withering stare.

“I’m too hung over to deal with those eyebrows right now, bro. Could you…put them away for a second?”

He rolls his eyes in response, “The eggs will help.”

“Oh man, are those for me?” Stiles sits up so quickly he almost regrets it, flinging the cat off of him in a flurry of limbs. The little guy mewls in protest and saunters off in an attempt to regain his dignity. Through a mouthful of eggs, Stiles continues, “Thank you  _so_  much. You’re a saint, Eyebrows.”

The man tosses Stiles’ discarded t-shirt at its owner’s face and says, “Derek.”

“Cool name.”

“I’ll let my mother know you approve.”

“She sounds like a nice lady.” Stiles gulps down half the coffee and silently thanks whatever deities are floating around up there that it isn’t hot enough to burn.

“Are we going to talk about how you broke into my apartment now?”

“In my defense,” Stiles drawls, waving his fork in Derek’s general direction, “the door  _was_  open. I think.”

Derek is obviously a master of silent communication. He specializes in glowering.

“Are we going to talk about how you didn’t call the cops?” Stiles shoots back.

The older man’s eyes widen in disbelief, “Should I get on that  _now_?”

“No! Nope. Totally…grateful for the lack of police officers. I’m not biting the hand that feeds.” He mulls that phrase over in his mind. “Heh,” Stiles finishes his last bite of scrambled egg and raises the empty plate in a mock toast. “Literally.”

Derek is unmoved. “Your friend lives next door. He only has two people that come over regularly. You and his girlfriend. You’re both equally as loud. Just in different ways.”

“Wait what—ew! Dude! I didn’t need to know that about Kira!”

“You’re the one who fell asleep on my couch,” Derek tells him, gesturing to the furniture in question. “I don’t know why you’re expecting me to be polite.”

Stiles very dutifully neglects to mention the obvious fact that Derek actually  _was_  rather gracious. What with the eggs and the coffee and the not getting his drunken ass arrested for breaking and entering. “I didn’t know it was your couch. I wasn’t exactly sober.”

“I guessed that around the time you called me pretty and attempted to use my cat as your pillow.”

Stiles actually does wince at that. He was wondering why the feline had been eyeing him dubiously throughout the entire exchange. He’d kind of assumed it was just a cat being a…cat. “Is that why she hates me?”

“He. And yes.”

“Sorry dude-cat.”

Dude-cat does not look even the least bit forgiving. If possible, he looks maybe a little angrier actually. Derek reaches out to scratch the space just above his tail.

The brief stretch of silence gives Stiles a moment to really take in his host’s appearance: the faded plaid of his sleep-pants, his bare feet, the slightly un-groomed look of his beard as though he hasn’t gotten around to trimming it yet this morning. Not to mention the way his tank top does absolutely nothing to disguise his sculpted physique, leaving Stiles an uncomfortable mixture of self-conscious and aroused and—yeah he really needs to leave now.

“I should probably go, huh?”

“If you want,” Derek says with a laissez-faire shrug. And nope, Stiles is definitely not looking into that one. No way. That way lies madness. Instead he pulls on his Flash t-shirt and starts an awkward Walk of Shame toward the hallway. He contemplates how sad it feels to do one of these without even getting to enjoy the fun part. Derek holds the door open for him.

“Uh,” he turns suddenly, before the other man can close the door behind him, and comes face-to-face with the Derek’s chin. He smells like sleep and mint toothpaste. Stiles takes a step back and clears his throat. “Thanks. For, you know, the eggs. And the coffee. And the couch.”

“No problem. Thanks for calling me pretty.” Derek smirks. He  _is_  super pretty. Drunk Stiles knew what was up. Sober Stiles thinks about saying so.

“Don’t make it weird dude,” he tells him instead

“ _I’m_  making it weird?” Derek asks incredulously, smile full and wide and blinding.

“Shut up,” Stiles starts backtracking toward Scott’s door. Derek leans against the frame of his own apartment to watch him go. “And start locking your door.”

“Sound advice from the drunken squatter.”

Stiles can’t help it. He laughs, doesn’t even attempt a comeback. “Oh um, by the way, I’m—”

“Stiles.”

“Did I tell you that too?” he inquires, suddenly much more wary of all the things Drunk Stiles may have revealed.

Derek looks slightly sheepish, “No I just—I mean, like I said you guys are…loud.”

Stiles nods in concession, “Well…it was nice to meet you Derek.”

“Same,” he responds.

*

On Stiles’ way back to campus the next day, Derek sidles up with a basket of laundry on his hip and stands next to him as he waits for the elevator to arrive.

“Hey,” Stiles greets with a small smile. He doesn’t look away from the changing numbers above the sliding doors.

“Hi,” Derek has a smile in his voice even if Stiles can’t see it. The younger man gives in, turns his head to look at Derek’s profile.

“So I owe you breakfast.”

Derek’s grin widens. He turns his entire body toward Stiles and replies, “You do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://theartfuljackdawkins.tumblr.com)


End file.
